Scattered across dawn: fragments of the Emerald Green;
Pictures of a distant past in which I would sit with my rancid team:
My merry band of wandering schemes,
Whose ****** would evade the law with ease;
And we would lynch ******* there—
Their screams would linger in the stagnant air.

Now I do not miss the Emerald Green—
Where I would sit with my noble team—
I fantasise about the Line now,
And how I can make amends for my violent dreams.